


November 2018 Blaise/Neville Prompts

by LavenderPhantomCat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 2018 Blaise/Neville November Prompts, Blaise/Neville, M/M, like inktober but not
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-21
Updated: 2019-01-26
Packaged: 2019-08-26 23:15:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16690780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LavenderPhantomCat/pseuds/LavenderPhantomCat
Summary: Because I failed inktober, both in drawing AND writing, I decided I would do an inktober-esque kind of thing but with my favorite rarepair Neville/Blaise and in the month of November! Each chapter will be a prompt. There's one prompt per day. Some are linked in series (this will be specified in the notes before the chapter). I hope you enjoy and hav a lovely day! <3





	1. Chapter 1

Because I failed inktober, both in drawing AND writing, I decided I would do an inktober-esque kind of thing but with my favorite rarepair Neville/Blaise and in the month of November! Each chapter will be a prompt. There's one prompt per day. Some are linked in series (this will be specified in the notes before the chapter). I hope you enjoy and hav a lovely day! <3


	2. Gecko

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the first part in the two-part series titled the "Gecko Series" the second part, "Gecko II" will be a follow up on this prompt (this will be specified in that chapter's notes). This series was inspired by a post I made about Blaise and Neville. I hope you enjoy and forgive me being so late!

“Nev! I’m home!” Announced Blaise, setting his suitcase by the coat rack, closing the front door behind him. Blaise had just gotten back from a trip to Australia, helping a research team track and observe some of the local magical snakes. He’d been gone almost two months, and it felt nice to be back to his home, and have access to a wardrobe that wasn’t five items of clothing. Most of all, he missed Neville. They’d talked via the portable magical mirror the team carried inside their tents while out tracking the snakes and at the hidden-away research outpost he’d been staying at as well, but it wasn’t anything like seeing Neville in person.

Neville came practically sprinting down the stairs, and slid down the hall, engulfing Blaise in a big hug. Neville looked up, golden curls in his eyes, grinning. “I missed you!” He said, pecking Blaise’s cheek.

“Me too,” Said Blaise, before bending over slightly to meet his boyfriend’s lips. When they pulled away from their kiss, Neville pecked at Blaise’s cheek again, saying “let’s get you all settled,” and took his hand, which was rough with callouses from being out in the field for days on end. They went upstairs, Blaise’s suitcase in hand, sharing pecks on the cheek and giggles. When they made it up to their bedroom, Blaise flopped onto the bed they shared and pulled Neville close.

“Excited for your birthday?” Asked Blaise.

“Yeah. Glad you could come home. Wouldn’t have been any good without you.”

“Wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Said Blaise, brushing some of Neville’s curls out of his eyes gently.

⭒✧⭒

On Neville’s birthday, Blaise woke up first, and planted a soft kiss on Neville’s nose, before going downstairs to make breakfast. After taking out scones, jelly, and clotted cream, he made lemon tea with ginger and put a small jar of honey along with it on the tray he’d taken out. He went briefly out to the small greenhouse they had attached to the home and snipped some Forget-Me-Nots, placing them delicately, stem-first, into a small glass vase.

Up the stairs Blaise went, and entered the room, smiling at the sight of his boyfriend sitting up groggily and rubbing his eyes. “Happy birthday, Nev.” Said Blaise, setting down the breakfast tray.

“‘Mornin, love.” Greeted Neville, taking the small jar of honey and letting a thin stream fall into his tea. “Come and sit,” he said, patting the space next to him. Still in his night clothes, Blaise sat next to Neville and rested his head on Neville’s shoulder.

“So, what have you up to, dear?” Asked Blaise.

“Oh, you know, the regular. Not anything exciting like you.”

They talked about what Blaise had been doing his final days when he’d have his next meetings when the research paper was going to be published, and things like that. Blaise loved talking to Neville, because he was a good listener, and always was good at carrying their conversation with him.

“So, what’s the plan for today?” Asked Neville. It was their tradition, the other would plan their day out for the other person’s birthday.

“Well, you’ll just have to finish and find out.” Said Blaise, mischief glinting in his eyes before he got up to get ready.

⭒✧⭒

Once the two were ready, Blaise took Neville’s hand, and lead them to the floo, where they stepped inside, and Blaise exclaimed, “The UK University of Magic Herbology Department!”

In a flurry of ash and green flame, they were transported along the floo system and entered the Herbology department’s large floo. Spelling the ash from them both, Blaise leads them through the hallways into the greenhouse, where the magical plants bloomed and flourished in the filtered light from outside. Neville was confused as to why he was at work until Blaise led him to a table in the back surrounded by orange petals.

On the table, there were small pots, each with magical plants, some glittering, others moving to their own rhythm, some with flowers, others without. Neville hugged Blaise tight, knowing it must have taken Blaise forever to collect the small plants before him. He knew them all from his many books. The flowering Tobbuth was a bright blue flower from the Amazon rainforest (specifically the parts in Paraguay) that glowed and sparkled, the Sesame de Mer was a kind of plant that produced sesame-like seeds, that grew in the middle of the Atlantic ocean, bobbing with the waves and currents. Thunder Caraway was a kind of magical caraway plant that emitted shocks of lightning and was only found at the top of Mount Olympus. All together, there were two dozen small pots filled with plants from all over the world.

“How long did this take you?” Asked Neville, examining the plants with awe.

“Ages, but that doesn’t matter. I got them on my trips. Sometimes I’d go on detours when heading home.” Said Blaise, kissing Neville’s cheek.

“So  _ that’s  _ why you were late home in February!” Said Neville.

“Well, I wanted you to have a present when I got back, as usual, one for Valentine’s day, and another to add to your birthday present collection.” 

“You spoil me severely, Blaise.” Laughed Neville. “Thank you.”

“You deserve it, Nev. Always being amazing.”

“Blaise! No sappy things! You know it’s gonna make us both cry!” Joked Neville, already tearing up.

⭒✧⭒

Next Neville and Blaise walked through the park, pinkies linked, taking a shortcut to the library apparating point. When they arrived at the Library of Magic, they slipped in, and Blaise led Neville to their favorite corner. It was lamp-lit, with two armchairs and a small coffee table. Blaise motioned for Neville to sit, and then he cast  _ Accio _ , summoning a wrapped package before sitting down.

Neville took the package in his hands, and then gently unwrapped it. He hadn’t even fully unwrapped it when he looked up, annoyed. “Blaise.”

“Yes?” He answered, biting back a smile.

“You are unbelievable.” He bit his bottom lip, but a smile still shone through. “I can’t believe you were able to get ahold of this.” He was beaming now and took off the rest of the paper, exposing  _ Encyclopedia Flora Brasiliensis Magicis, _ a near-ancient volume with old prints of magical flora, most of which were incredibly rare or lost to time. To get a copy was near impossible. 

“I was in the most Northern tip of Russia when I found that one. It was … quite a detour to go there.”

“Was it when you went to Hungary to find those dragons?” Asked Neville.

“Maybe…” Said Blaise, grinning.

“You are insane! You went to the arctic circle, in December, to get a book for me.”

“That is true.” Said Blaise, almost laughing along with Neville.

⭒✧⭒

When it was lunch time, Blaise and Neville went for lunch at a local pub with friends, who said their presents were coming later. Neville squinted at Blaise, who  _ had  _ to be up to something. Blaise pretended not to notice the pondering and slightly suspicious look on Neville’s face. 

After lunch, Blaise took Neville to the newly-opened Magical Botanical Center. Taking Neville by the hand, Blaise lead his boyfriend along a path of grey, fine gravel, letting Neville point out all of the flowers he knew with great excitement -- he’d promised Blaise he’d wait until they could go together, and the excitement had been building.

Blaise couldn’t help but beam at the fact that he was in a garden of beautiful magical plants, pointing out lush leaves, silky petals, peculiar particles, bountiful magical pollinators and more with his favorite person in the world. Blaise wasn’t a sappy guy (this was a lie he told himself), but he decided that he didn’t care that he thought of Neville as his favorite person in the world was “sappy,” to him it wasn’t just sappy, it was  _ true _ . 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed and have a stupendous day! <3


	3. Lilac

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! This prompt is the beginning of the Flower Series (the next parts are titled: Acacia, Tulip, and Rose. They will all have their own work, too). I hope you enjoy!

Blaise had decided: he was going to do it. It had taken him weeks of building up his courage to reach this point: but now he felt he was ready. After he finished his Potions homework, he quickly escaped from the 8th year common room and walked to the greenhouse. Professor Sprout had let him have space in the very back of the greenhouse (she’d become one of the only teachers who didn’t disdain him saying, “I think you and your friends need a little more cheer in your lives than all this wretched shunning,”). Every day, he went into the well-lit area that he was given, and watered his plants as need be, and made sure they were growing nicely. He didn’t have anything special growing in his corner: just a multitude of flowers. But to Blaise, it meant the world. All of the flowers meant something different: and today he would clip the flowers off one particular plant: Lilac. With a set of sheers, he gently snipped bunches of purple flowers off of their stems and gently set them inside of a discreet box he’d carried with him, filled with lightly dampened towels to keep the blooms fresh. He hadn’t just grown them for their beauty, although they were quite beautiful, but for their meaning. Lilacs meant “Budding emotions of love,” and there was someone in particular who he wanted to see the purple blossoms and all of their splendid meaning.

Having collected all he would need, he walked back to the dorms after saying goodbye to Ms. Sprout (earning him a “have a lovely day, dear,”). On his way, just before crossing the lawn, he saw a group of eighth years, walking together, laughing and smiling. Hanging back a moment, Blaise let his eyes find the face of none other than Neville. His face held a soft smile, and with each step, his blond curls bounced slightly. Blaise inhaled a steady breath to keep his beating heart in check, and walked quickly back, fast enough to beat the group of friends.  

Late in the night, Blaise was working with ribbons and Lilac flowers, pens and parchment, scribbling and scratching out rejected messages: it had to be perfect. At 2 A.M., Blaise slipped out with his preparations, sliding in socks down the hallway with care, until he reached Neville’s dorm room. It had a gold plate at the top with his name engraved in all caps. It was at the end of the hallway of eighth-year co-ed dormitories, and was, luckily, enshrouded in shadow should someone decide to go out for a midnight stroll.

Working quickly, Blaise affixed his Lilacs and light purple ribbons onto the door’s dark wood, with a centerpiece of even more flowers and a small message reading:

 

_For you, budding sentiments._

 

After the deed was done, Blaise snuck back into his dorm room, and went to sleep, dreaming of fields and fields of Lilac flowers.

When Blaise woke up Saturday morning, he could hear buzzing outside in the hallway. It was only six a.m., which meant that  _something_ had to be happening. Blaise, deciding curiosity won over the fear that it may have been his own project causing the commotion, peaked his head out of his dorm room groggily.

Pansy, still in her nightgown, dashed over to Blaise, Draco in toe. “You won't  _believe_  what happened last night!” Said Pansy hurridly.

“What?” Asked Blaise, wholly unamused.

“Someone went to Longbottom’s door and decorated it with all these ribbons, and now people are trying to figure out who did it!” The excitement from the drama made her so giddy she didn’t even bother to push a large chunk of hair from her face.

“Oh, and that isn’t even all of it;” Said Draco, in nearly equal excitement to Pansy, “there was a little message in the middle with all these flowers about it -- something about ‘sentiments’.”

Trying to act naturally, Blaise asked, “who’s the prime suspect?”

“Well, no one knows anyone who’s that good at gardening or that ribbon-weaving rubbish, so no one has a clue.” Said Pansy.

“Huh. What about that Abbot girl?” Asked Blaise, feigning indifference.

“Oh, but she claims she has no idea what happened!” She explained, still not brushing her hair from her face. Blaise did it for her.

“You had a bit in your eyes, dear.” He said in his usual unamused tone.

“Thank you,” She said, before saying, “well, you’ve got to see it!” And yanking him out of his doorway down the hall.

Around Longbottom’s door, a small crowd gathered, whispering and looking at the decorated door with curiosity and excitement. Granger was pointing out the flowers, Hannah herself was staring at the ribbon -- which had taken Blaise ages to weave, construct, and configure into the forms they were in now. Blaise swore he saw Neville look at him briefly, and flushed, his heart skipping a beat.

 

* * *

 

The case of who had dropped off the intricate lilac art piece was the hot topic, people making lists, scribbling out names, adding others. Not even the rest of the years were safe. The only person not on the list of suspects seemed to be Blaise because of course, he wasn’t. When Blaise was walking to Charms with Draco and Pansy, he overheard a conversation between two Gryffindor seventh-years. “Who else in the eighth year is there? We’re missing someone.” Then they’d looked up, the red in their ties almost as glaring as the looks they shot the trio. “Oh yeah, those pricks. They didn’t do it; they’ve got their heads too far up their asses.”

After a while, “expert’s lists” began going around. They were said to be duplicates of lists made by Hermione Granger and other people who knew Neville well. Some people even started selling lists, which were obvious fakes. Meanwhile, Blaise looked at Neville from afar, each time his cheeks flushing. Did Neville know? Did he even care? It was hard to tell.

 

* * *

 

Neville knew it was foolish, but he kept the Lilacs in a small glass vase, casting spells on them and adding potions to the water the flowers were in to preserve them and keep them from wilting. Before he went to bed, he took a look at them, the petals almost shimmery in the moonlight that drifted through his window. He wondered who’d given them to him, and the more he looked, the more confused he was. No one on the eighth year floor would do it. None of his friends fancied him, and well, those who weren’t, he couldn’t imagine them liking him either. Hermione had her own theory. She said it  _had_ to be Hannah Abot, even though, honestly, Neville hoped it wasn’t. Hannah was nice, but he simply didn’t like her.

 

* * *

 

It was November, the orange leaves swirling around the towers of Hogwarts in the great gusts of wind that were common that time of year. Blaise was looking at the other end of the eighth year dinner table wistfully; that was were Neville was sitting. In his head, he imagined Neville discovering it was him all along and saying he liked him back, but it was all fantasy, deducted Blaise. Neville would never know and never like him.

Blaise continued to think about what could be when a certain headmistress interrupted his train of thought. “Hello, students,” Said Headmistress McGonagall, standing up from her seat at the front of the hall. “I would like to inform all of you of the upcoming Winter’s Ball, one for years four and above, focusing on the successes of this year. It has been incredibly difficult to re-adjust, this I know. Because of this, I and your teachers have decided you deserve a celebration. The ball will be held on the 20th of December. Further details will be coming soon.” She then sat down and began eating her dinner.

The hall erupted in conversation, but all Blaise felt was a slight pang in his chest, one knowing he’d never be able to dance with the one and only Neville Longbottom.

 

* * *

 

As the days melded one into another, more and more people became convinced that it was Hannah Abot who had left the Lilacs, and was just lying about not dropping off the impressive display because she was embarrassed. This hypothesis gained steam, and soon it was like a locomotive: Hannah was reassuring people she hadn’t, and Neville was feverishly batting off questions on how he’d ask her out.

As more rumors were created, Blaise felt something similar to a snake writhing in his stomach, making him feel ill and worrisome. What if Neville really thought Hannah Abot was the one who’d dropped off the flowers? With each passing day, it seemed as if he kept on accepting it, nodding or laughing at comments on how amazing Hannah was at ribbon work. Blaise agreed, she  _was_ amazing, but he felt an itch in his throat that wanted to scream, “it was me! It was me!”

He couldn’t help but feel stupid and vain for thinking Neville would ever listen to him in the first place. However, he knew he had to do something. Leave a hint that it was him.  


	4. Fireplace

Neville was late, forcing him to sprint down the marble halls of the Department of Mysteries. His black robes snapped behind him as he turned corners at break-neck speeds to make it to his next meeting with the head of the Chamber of Time. Every month, the sub-department of Unspeakables who studied time met and discussed what would be done in the next month to further the department’s advancements. 

  
Most of Neville’s friends were confused as to why he’d want to be an Unspeakable in the first place. Harry, who ended up an Auror, had dropped his sandwich when Neville told his friends he was going to be doing training.

  
“Are you mad?” He’d asked. “You won’t be able to say anything – That’s bonkers, Nev.”

  
Most of his friends agreed, even after Neville’s efforts to explain his reasoning to them. “I spent near eight years in University studying Time and other magical subjects, I don’t want my degree to go to waste. I like the work that I’d be able to do for the Department of Mysteries.” He’d told them.

  
Luna thought it was a good idea, at least. “Even the Snappy Dawnmurks agree. Do what makes you happy.” She’d said, then returning to her notebook, working on a story about the siege of magical snails on rural magical homes.

  
After Neville told them about how well he was doing (without telling them specifics, of course), his friends saw it was a good fit for him. Now he was barreling past the endless halls to try and make it to his meeting.

  
He had just passed the Chamber of Thought when he bumped into another Unspeakable. Unable to stop and even see who he’d bumped into, Neville called “Sorry!” Over his shoulder before turning back to reach his destination.

  
Luckily, he made it on time and walked over to his friend, Nadia. “There you are!” She exclaimed quietly (even though it wasn’t a strict rule, most Unspeakables considered it a requirement to be silent while at work, so whispering was common in place of the “normal” volume you would have at work).

  
“I ran into someone in the hallway. Don’t even know if I knocked whatever was in their hands on the floor I was in such a hurry.” Said Neville in between breaths.

  
“Hope it was no one important,” Said Nadia with a wince.

  
“How many important people come out of the Chamber of Thought, do you think?” Asked Neville, bracing for a daunting ratio.

  
Nadia’s wince deepened. “I don’t think it matters really, the Department of Thought’s in collaboration with us on a new project – all hands on deck.”

  
“Oh, bother,” Muttered Neville under his breath. His new friends at the Chamber of Time started calling Neville “Pooh” for all the times he would mutter “Oh, bother” before shift even started.

  
Before Nadia and Neville could speak on it more, a wave of silence (another common occurrence at the Department of Mysteries) washed over the group of Unspeakables gathered in the Chamber of Time as the department head stepped up to the small step at the large, circular platform. The platform was equipped with clocks of all kinds, all ornate. One could walk around it once and see all the measures of time used in magic, the time in any city one wished, And see what had just occurred in that second on a large band that displayed magical pictures – a timeline of sorts. The timeline went all the way back before the Earth was ever formed. Neville peaked at the timeline to see a picture of the inauguration of the new Department of Magical Law Enforcement that was happening as their department head greeted them.

  
“Hello, all. Before we begin with the monthly Department of Time meeting, I would like to congratulate our latest researchers on making it past the nine-week trial period. I know I am late in congratulating you, as you received your letters days ago, but nevertheless, good job.”

  
Nadia and Neville shared a fistbump. The two had opened their letters together to see if the Department of Mysteries had decided they would be able to continue as hired employees, and the two, as well as all their friends, were accepted.

  
The large ornate clock at the center of the podium struck and rang, signaling the beginning of the meeting. The double doors leading into the Chamber of Time swung open, revealing a similarly-clad group of Unspeakables, except they, instead of the ornate pocket watches that were attached to the department of time’s robes, had thin discs of magical film, which were all different, undulating colors. Nadia had told Neville that she’d been told by her friend, Maya, who worked in the Department of Thought, that the disks displayed the wearer’s emotions through color “think a glorified, magical mood ring, but a patch.”

  
The department head of the Chamber of Time, David Axon, was greeted silently by the department head of the Chamber of Thought, Natalia Pavlovich, who stood next to him. Her own patch was a faint blue, which Neville could only guess meant she was calm. Axon spoke up again. 

  
“As some of you already know, the researchers with the Chamber of Time will be collaborating with the researchers from the Chamber of Thought to complete the newest stride in time travel innovation.”  

  
Natalia Pavlovich nodded before speaking. “We will be splitting researchers in pairs to help develop one part of this immaculate project. Communication will be key, as all the parts must be able to function together, which is why after each researching period, a status update must be turned into the project file by 11:59 on the day of the research period.”

  
“Some of you are curious as to what this project is,” Continued Pavlovich in her clipped tone. With a flick of her wand, a fireplace materialized, orange flame licking at the logs of wood inside. “The Fireplace.”

  
All of the researchers leaned in just a smidge, including Neville, to get a better look. Nadia took out a small notepad and scribbled down some notes (she had the incredible ability to figure out what the dimensions of anything were, no matter how far away) on the seemingly normal fireplace.

  
Axon smiled. “This, while seemingly mundane, is the key to streamlined, non-limiting time travel. The idea to go in the direction of the fireplace was synthesized from the thesis papers that two newly-hired researchers, one from each sub-department of the Department of Mysteries. Does anyone have any clue who?”

  
Neville knew he’d done his paper on vehicles for time travel and had mentioned fireplaces in depth, but anyone else could have gone into depth about using fireplaces for tie travel. To Neville, it seemed like a no-brainer.

  
“Surely at least those who wrote the papers know what they wrote about,” Said Pavlovich, amused at the lack of people raising their hands. “Let’s make this easier. How many of you in the Chamber of Time wrote about the use of fireplaces as transportation through spacetime?”

  
Neville raised his hand. Looking around, he saw he was the only one raising his hand. “Mr. Longbottom, come up to the podium, if you could.” Said Axon. Nadia nudged him with her elbow, smiling excitedly.

  
“Now, from the Chamber of Thought, who wrote about the neuroscience of apparition, as well as flooing,  and it’s applications to different modes of travel?” Asked Pavlovich.

  
One hand was raised, slender fingers familiar to Neville in some way.  “Mr. Zabini, come up here as well.” Said Axon.

  
Neville couldn’t believe it. Blaise Zabini was in the Department of Mysteries! How peculiar. As Zabini walked to the podium, Neville watched, awed, at the grace in the way that his robes floated behind him, how he practically floated, and how he had climbed the two steps with the lightness of a summer’s breeze. Ms. Pavlovich shook Neville’s hand, and Zabini shook Axon’s. 

  
“Thanks to the imagination and ingenuity the two of you presented, we are pleased to appoint you as captains of this project. This means, on top of your own responsibilities, you will be synthesizing, documenting, and testing conclusions and hypothesis using your own expertise. Further details will be given to you.” Said Pavlovich in her seemingly usual brisk tone, but this time, a glint of appreciation shined in her eye.

  
After a few more words on the project and how pairs depending on their performance level were arranged and assigned parts (Nadia was in the top four researchers out of both chambers, and the two, in passing to their assigned workspace, shared their celebratory handshake).

* * *

  
Blaise hadn’t really said anything to Neville in the time they’d been selected and had headed over to their workspace, save the handshake of greeting they’d shared. Blaise set down his book back gently (and with grace, which Neville still silently marveled at).

  
“How did getting to the meeting go for you?” Asked Blaise out of the blue.  
Eyebrow raised, Neville tentatively said, “good … why?”

  
“You might have bumped into me in the hallway earlier this morning,” He said simply.

  
Neville face-palmed quite forcefully and winced. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t break anything, did I?”

  
“No. You didn’t. It’s quite alright, I was just wondering.” Blaise answered, a slight shrug whispering in his shoulders as he took out his books. They were neat, not a scratch or imperfection blemishing the covers. Neville couldn’t help but marvel at these pristine books, even if they were a minuscule detail in his surroundings.   
Because he and Blaise were tasked with approving and checking the theory of all the components, as well as some of the more vital, delicate parts, both had scrounged up many bottles of ink, rolls of parchment, and enough quills to supply an army for weeks. Neville thought grimly to himself, “this’ll barely be enough for this project…” 

  
Neville was genuinely interested in this project, but it was the daunting thought of screwing something up that held him back. The first item on the agenda was drafting the theory and mathematics for the blueprints and plan for constructing arguably the most important piece of the project: The main computing device. It would be made of the Chamber of Time’s favorite medium: Intricate clockwork. The device would be activated by the input of energy from modified Floo powder as well as act as an amplifier and analyzer of the transportee’s intended destination.

  
Neville had rolled out a chalkboard from the storage closet, and gotten some chalk, beginning his own calculations. He wanted to ask and answer: how could the device interact with spacetime to transport the user? How much energy would this take? What magical channels (the floo system used it’s own manufactured magical channel, but it was well understood in the magical academic world that magical channels could be both man-made and naturally occurring and that there were thousands of them, especially ones that could take one back or forward in time) would be most viable for the task of transportation?  
First, Neville laid out the rough formula, and simplified it, sometimes expanding or adding to parts of it. Neville was ready to get solving before Blaise raised his hand, translating to “hold a minute, please,” And stood from the chair from which he’d been observing from. 

  
“This term does not properly represent the dilemma for thought-to-data conversion. The mind does not act in such a confined space.” He said, in a constructive, not malicious way.

  
“Well, if that’s the case, how do I – we fix it?” Asked Neville, setting down the powdery piece of chalk. He couldn’t help but notice the small circular patch on Blaise’s robes was undulating between deep and light blues.

  
“It’s a tricky hypothesis, but I’ve been working on such a constant. However, because the mind is in no way as predictable as mathematics would require, it is hardly accurate enough.” Said Blaise, standing.

  
“It will have to do for now.” Said Neville, handing Blaise the piece of chalk.  
Blaise nodded, and erased the term Neville had written, replacing it with his own complicated term. “There.” He said, after drawing in the last parenthesis. Neville caught a glimpse of a quick golden yellow flicker.

  
“Perhaps you are better suited for that bit.” Said Neville. “I think I’ll start with the computing mechanism’s calculations.”

  
They found a steady rhythm, Blaise calculating away at the physics and neurology of it all, and Neville calculating the sizes of gears and things. Once shift ended, most people began filing out, but Neville had no intention of leaving. He was just finishing determining the metal with which the computing device should be made of, how said material would interact with the magical currents, how it would behave under the influence of magical networks to boot.   
At nine PM, Blaise stretched, his patch a dull grey. “Shouldn’t you call it a night?” He asked. 

  
Neville laughed and shook his head. “With things like these, I’m lucky if I don’t spend all night in this damned room. Plus, I’m close to figuring this out. Shame if I would forget next morning.” Neville tried to stifle a yawn. 

  
“Very well then.” Said Blaise, setting down his bag. He took out a notebook, one with the Chamber of Thought’s insignia imprinted into the faded leather. He looked inside of it, squinting back and forth at the chalkboard and his notebook pages. 

  
At about ten, Neville looked up. Paired with tiredness and curiosity he asked. “What’s your patch for? Heard it’s to broadcast your emotions, but I don’t know for sure.”

  
Blaise looked up. “I was wondering when you would ask. It displays my emotions, yes. Everyone in the Chamber of Thought can read minds, you see. Only fair everyone else can read ours.”

  
“That’s considerate.” Said Neville, looking up from his heavy volume on metallurgy. “What does that color mean?” He asked.

  
Blaise looked down. It was a soft blue. “Calm. Happiness.” He looked up smiling softly.

  
Neville smiled back. “That’s good to hear.” He skimmed the page he was on with a quick glance, eyes widening and freezing. “Well, that’s it, then.”

  
With a gleeful expression, he ran out of the chamber, robes billowing behind him. He was back in a minute, stacks of books behind him, some precariously teetering in his arms. “I think I’ve found the solution to most of our problems”  
  
  
The metal’s name was called Illuria. It was silver in color, shiny, and decently malleable. It could be artificially made, and was cheap to make to boot. The problem was, no one knew what it could be used for. People had been researching it for decades, and still no practical uses. The one thing that did stand out about Illuria, though, was it’s reactions to connecting to magic. If Neville was right about it, it would be able to connect to a person’s magical force, and possibly connect to magical channels. If the metal could connect to someone’s magical force and the channels, then perhaps the complicated, hypothetical term Blaise was incorporating into their calculations could be done away with, leaving a far simpler, more manageable equation.

  
As Neville explained this, gesturing at illustrations and diagrams excitedly, Blaise was deep in thought. After Neville was finished, Blaise smiled a little. “It will be a fight, but it’s a start. Good job, Longbottom.”

  
Neville couldn’t help but blush. “Thank you.”

  
“You should get home, then. It’s been a long, long day.” Said Blaise, stretching.  
“Maybe you’re right.”

  
As the lights shut off behind them as they exited the chamber, Neville had a feeling they would become good friends.

* * *

As the months progressed Neville and Blaise spent late nights and early mornings at their station. Neville couldn’t help but feel they were good friends now. He also couldn’t help but crush on Blaise. Yes, he knew there was no way it would work out like that, but he could dream.

* * *

Neville was working unbelievably late into the night, large magnifying glasses perched on his nose as he squinted at the intricate clockwork at his station. Blaise was at the other end of the table, writing up an update on their progress so far in his elegant scrawl.

  
Neville let out a sigh of relief as the miniscule gear fit perfectly in place. “That was a little devil to fit in.” He set down his tools, and placed the protective cover over the project, calling it a night. “Don’t want to test my luck,” He said.

  
Blaise had had a question lingering in the back of his throat, something he’d been holding inside. He had to do it tonight. “Good job, Neville.” He said, setting down his quill.

  
“Thanks, Blaise.” He said, smiling and stretching, then turning to pack up.  
“I was wondering…” Blaise began, heart thundering. Neville turned back round to face him, noticing the blush on Blaise’s cheeks. “Yeah?”

  
“I was wondering if you would be interested in…” his eyes glanced at his paper, feeling as if he would explode.

  
“In what?” Asked Neville innocently.

  
Blaise exhaled slowly. “Sorry, don’t know what got into me. What I was trying to ask was if you would be interested in going out with me. For dinner. Or lunch. Or breakfast… if that’s your style.”

  
Neville’s face went red. “Oh. Uhm.”

  
“Don’t feel any pressure. It’s okay if you don’t want to. All’s well.” Said Blaise, ready to go home and commence a royally large pity party with plenty of dry wine and Pansy’s gossiping.

  
“No!” Neville turned even redder, if that was possible. “I mean, yes, I want to go with you, no for feeling pressured and such.”

  
Blaise’s eyes sparkled and bit his bottom lip. “When would you like?”

  
“Oh, erm…” Neville hadn’t thought this far ahead. “Lunch. If we do dinner, I’ll be embarrassingly late.”

  
Blaise couldn’t help but smile wider. “It’s a date, then.”

* * *

Five years and one marriage later, Blaise and Neville Zabini-Longbottom were in a real estate office for magical abodes, looking for their new home.

  
The woman in front of them had a pile of chestnut hair piled on her head, and a gentle smile across her lips.

“What are you two interested in?”

  
Blaise and Neville looked at each other. “A cozy place.” Said Neville.

  
“With a fireplace,” Added Blaise, smiling knowingly at his sweet betrothed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Time got away from me... so here were are over two months later still on the 3rd prompt! But anyways, hope you enjoy!

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Have a lovely day!


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